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From nearly quitting baseball to becoming an All-Star: The story of Cleveland Indians slugger Brandon Moss
GOODYEAR, Ariz. -- Allison Moss could see it in her husband's face. His enthusiasm had disappeared. His lust for life had vanished. Stress had swallowed him whole.
His career, his legacy and his family's well-being were at a crossroads.
"That happy-go-lucky, positive person was gone," Allison said. "I could see his happiness depleting."
An off-day conversation with his wife may have rescued Brandon Moss's baseball career. At one point, he contemplated leaving the sport for a job as a firefighter in Gwinnett County, Ga. At another, he prepared to bid adieu to the big leagues and relocate his family to Japan.
He couldn't chase his major league dream forever.
"He looked at me and said, 'I will never run this family into the ground trying to chase something I feel is unattainable for me,'" Allison said.
"They're serious about this"
The Oakland Athletics promoted Moss from Triple-A in June 2012. He was far from thrilled.
After conversing with Japanese scouts, Moss had decided to pursue a playing career overseas. He had an opt-out clause in his contract and could become a free agent on June 15. Nine days before that, the Athletics came calling.
Moss was disappointed. He stood to earn a more lucrative salary in Japan. Plus, he assumed he would receive a few at-bats with Oakland and then be cast aside. He was all too familiar with that sequence of events.
"I was like, 'This is just going to throw everything off,'" Moss said.
Allison calls herself "a bit of a gypsy," someone who welcomes new adventures. She was on board for life in Japan, though she admitted she was "super nervous" and "really stressed" about raising children in a foreign country. Moss considered it the wisest career choice.
"As much as we all want to play in the big leagues and you want to be on a team that has an opportunity to win, at the end of the day you have a family to support," Moss said. "It's a career. You have to go where the best opportunity to make the most money is when you have a family that you have to support."
Moss had merited the label of a "AAAA" player, one who excels at all ranks of the minors but can't unearth a formula for success at the big league level. He reached Triple-A with the Red Sox organization in 2007. He found himself toiling in obscurity at the same level five years later.
"Once you're labeled something like that," Moss said, "it's really hard to get an opportunity to play every day."
From 2007-11, he compiled a .236/.300/.382 slash line with 15 home runs in nearly 700 at-bats. He bounced between levels with the Red Sox, Pirates and Phillies. Finally, after a torrid start for Oakland's Triple-A affiliate in 2012 -- one that didn't alter his intention to go to Japan -- he earned the call-up to Oakland.
He assumed the worst. He predicted he'd receive a handful of at-bats, a call to the manager's office and a prompt sayonara. He was wrong.
"They gave me every opportunity to play," Moss said. "They ran me out there every single day. I was like, 'Man, they're serious about this. They're really going to let me do this.' Once I realized that, I took off and ran with it. I never thought I would get that opportunity."
"Nothing to lose"
The man with the close-your-eyes-and-swing-for-the-fences mentality had become a shell of his self. Moss spent the 2009 campaign with the Pirates, who instructed him to close his batting stance to prevent timing issues. Moss had previously stood at the plate with his front leg open.
With the modified stance, Moss no longer used his legs when he took a hack. As a result, his power potential plummeted.
"I was more of a slap guy," Moss said. "I think they wanted me to use the whole field more than be a power guy."
In 385 at-bats, Moss clubbed only seven home runs. He returned to Triple-A Indianapolis the following year and his struggles persisted. Finally, Jeff Branson, then the hitting coach for Indianapolis, showed Moss some video from his days in Boston. He pointed out the exaggerated open stance and the fluidity of his swinging motion. Branson suggested that Moss return to his old form.
"He was like, 'Man, you have nothing to lose,'" Moss said. "'I don't know what's going to happen if you keep hitting like this. You're not going to be around much longer.'"
Moss stepped into the batting cage that day. It was like riding a bike. By the end of the season, he had posted an .800 OPS with 22 home runs and 96 RBIs.
"He could've just let me go," Moss said of Branson. ... "But he didn't. He could see that something was different, wasn't right. He invested the time and the energy and worked with me and fixed it. I'm definitely grateful to him for that."
That fear of failure of being everything I could be and not being good enough, that was what kept me from doing it.
"I need a career"
Occasionally, Moss and his wife sat down and addressed the situation. For how long could the high school sweethearts skate by while Moss pursued a stable, big league career?
"Every time he was getting called up, I just saw the stress in his face," Allison said. "He knew that the window was so short."
Moss felt the pressure to perform, to impress every set of eyeballs in the dugout, the front office and around the league. He wondered if he simply didn't possess the array of skills necessary to remain on a major league roster. He considered quitting the game altogether.
"One of my best friends at home is a firefighter," Moss said, "and we were talking about it. He had put in a word for me. It was something I was really thinking about."
Moss had zero experience extinguishing flames.
"I don't know what I'm doing, but I need a career," he said. "I have to have a career."
Instead, he signed with Oakland prior to the 2012 season. He figured if he could inflate his home run total in the hitter-friendly Pacific Coast League, that could pave the way for him to play in Japan.
Then, he got the call.
Moss joined the Athletics, who had optioned first baseman Daric Barton to Triple-A. Moss assumed he would stay on the big league roster only until Barton solved his hitting woes. After five games with Oakland, Moss was 2-for-13 with a home run. He was miserable. Allison knew it.
The A's traveled to Colorado for a three-game set with the Rockies. Prior to the series, they had an off-day. Moss spent the day with his wife and son. The couple had another one of their career chats.
"I looked at him and I was like, 'Is this what you want? Do you want to play baseball?'" Allison said. "He said, 'Absolutely.' And I said, 'Well just go out there and play like you do in the minor leagues. Go out there and hit the ball as hard as you can and don't change your approach.'
"I told him, 'This is it. This is probably the last opportunity you'll get. Try to make the best of it.'"
Allison noticed that when Moss returned home from a lousy Triple-A game, he acted as though his lack of production was a fluke. When he struggled at the major league level, he reasoned that it was the norm. It developed into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
The solution? Eliminate all of the thinking and over-thinking and over-over-thinking and merely try to swat the baseball beyond the fence.
The next day, Moss socked a pair of home runs in an 8-5 victory. A day later, he clubbed another home run in a 10-8 win. The day after that, he tallied three hits, including a home run, in an 8-2 triumph. The next day, he belted another home run in a 10-2 win.
"I was like, 'This is working,'" Moss said. "She was like, 'See? It's the same game.'"
"This is everything"
Moss parlayed his torrid stretch into an everyday gig. He finished the 2012 season with a .954 OPS and 21 home runs in 84 games. He slugged 30 home runs with Oakland in 2013. His 21 round-trippers in the first half of 2014 earned him a trip to Target Field in Minnesota for the All-Star Game.
There, he encountered his former manager in Boston Terry Francona, who became his new skipper in Cleveland later that year.
"I said, 'I'm so proud of you,'" Francona said. "He had fallen on some hard times in baseball. Things weren't going the way he wanted them to. By his own admission, he was thinking about doing something else. Then you see him sitting at [21] home runs at the All-Star break, making the All-Star team. I thought that was pretty cool."
Moss went home that night and told Allison about the exchange. He appreciated Francona's message. It served as an appropriate depiction of how Moss's career had come full circle.
For years, he trudged along in the minors, wondering if each demotion back to Triple-A would be the one that forces him onto a different career path. And yet, here he was, on the grandest stage, a member of the sport's elite fraternity.
"He was very intent on protecting us and taking care of our family," Allison said. "He told me several times: 'I will never chase something that I feel like I can't do.'
"So there were points that he thought that baseball was something that he couldn't put together at the major league level. He thought that he could, but he thought that he'd never get the opportunity to again."
Now, the Indians will rely on Moss to provide the power that proved he belonged in the first place. He'll bat in the middle of Francona's lineup, with nary a thought of firefighting or playing in Japan coming anywhere near his conscience. The enthusiastic, positive person is back. Moss's happiness has been restored.
"This is everything I've always wanted to be," Moss said. "That fear of failure of being everything I could be and not being good enough, I think that was what kept me from doing it."